


Good fortunes

by MajorEnglishEsquire, outpastthemoat



Series: NOODLE SHOP 'verse [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Chinese Food, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2021-01-13 07:56:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21240767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorEnglishEsquire/pseuds/MajorEnglishEsquire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/outpastthemoat/pseuds/outpastthemoat
Summary: There’s almost nothing in their new place, even though they signed the lease a month ago.  It's just taking them this long to start settling in. They came here with nothing but Sam’s job offer and the card key to the hotel room his new firm is springing for and a couple of suitcases and they just...stayed.





	Good fortunes

There’s almost nothing in their new place, even though they signed the lease a month ago. It's just taking them this long to start settling in. They came here with nothing but Sam’s job offer and the card key to the hotel room his new firm is springing for and a couple of suitcases and they just...stayed. 

So they don’t have anything: No towels or a coffee table or even a bed. All their college era furniture is still on Sam’s brother’s basement back home. It makes Sam feel weird sometimes to be living out of a hotel again, they way he had in his weird transient never-quite-a-kid childhood. Like he’s seven again and fighting Dean for the pull-out cot because for some stupid reason neither of them wants the second double. Sam doesn’t even have a toaster oven anymore.

The new apartment is almost empty. Sam’s hung up a couple of new suits in their closet, and there’s a trash bag with bleach and Comet and a toilet plunger that Chuck brings over on Sunday when he starts his deep clean.

Dean must be sick of having Sam’s stuff cluttering up his basement, because he’s started shipping Sam all his crap, box by box. Last week it had been army men and old legos. This week it’s apparently time for Sam’s library to go. So Sam drops by the new apartment with a box of books, not the cheesy vintage sci fi books that he likes to stand by the bathroom door and read out loud to Chuck while Chuck is in the shower and can’t escape, but some of his college textbooks he could never bear to sell back to the bookstore, not matter how much Chuck teased him about it. He drops off the books on their new hardwood floors and goes to find Chuck.

Chuck is deep inside their new refrigerator, armed with scrubbing brushes and spray bottles. The kitchen smells of Pine Sol. 

“Smells like Christmas in here,” Sam gets to say when he crouches down to plant a kiss on the top of Chuck’s head. “Are you my present?”

Chuck tolerates the kiss but doesn’t stop scrubbing. “I’m not done yet,” Chuck gripes, and Sam’s heard it before, about OTHER PEOPLE’S GERMS, SAM, do you want YOUR breakfast grapefruit in the same crisper that once held someone else’s moldy lettuce, so he slides down on the floor beside Chuck and says, “What can I do to help?”

Chuck stops to think for a moment. “I dunno. Wipe down the counters?” 

“Okay,” Sam says, and Chuck passes him the Lysol wipes.

The apartment is almost empty, but not quite. There are still bits and pieces of whoever lived there before. The lime green paint in the master bedroom that Chuck swears they’ll have to paint before he sleeps with Sam in there, a plastic bucket in the cabinet underneath the sink in the half-bathroom. Sam wipes down the counters and all the cabinets. He does the shelves in the pantry. He starts to open all the drawers and wipes those down too, and he finds something else left by the previous residents: Outdated Yellowpages and menus, stuffed in the bottom drawer in the cabinet by the sink. 

Sam throws the Yellowpages in the garbage bag Chuck hung on the pantry doorknob and flicks through the menus before tossing most of them in the trash too. But there are a couple of menus he keeps. He sticks one under Chuck’s nose. 

Chuck squints down at it. “What's this?”

“Dinner,” Sam says. “We haven't had Chinese since we moved.”

The menu is advertising BIG WONG’S Sunday special: An entree; rice, egg fried or white; an egg roll; soup, wonton or egg drop.

Chuck Is frowning. “It might suck,” he warns.

Sam shrugs. “So? It's an adventure.”

Chuck puts down the Pine Sol. “It's not going to be the same,” he says at last, quiet and pained. 

“So it's not the Noodle Shop,” Sam counsels. “Doesn't mean it’s not good.”

“And we won't get free tea,” Chuck warns.

“We can live without.”

“We don't have to do Chinese tonight,” Chuck says, “we could go back to the motel and change and go, there's that new farm to table place you were talking about, you're always nagging me to get out of the room and see what's out there, you’re worse than my mother-”

“Nah,”Sam says. “How about this: You. Me. Eating takeout on the floor of our new place together. Our first home.”

Chuck just shrugs. “If that’s what you want,” he says. He goes back to scrubbing. But it just doesn’t sound right. So Sam has to put his hands on Chuck’s shoulders and tug him around and look him right in the face.

“Chuck. I know that moving here is great for me. But coming here wasn't your idea and you haven't found anything for yourself here yet, you're just here because of me. All you’ve got here is me and your blog. And I know I was so excited about this, but Chuck? Babe?” He catches Chuck’s eye, makes sure he’s paying attention. “ _ We don’t have to stay _ .”

He pauses for a moment to make sure Chuck is hearing him. “It doesn’t have to be this apartment. It doesn’t have to be this city or this job. It can be anything. Anywhere.”

“You already took the job,” Chuck says.

“I can quit.”

“We already signed a lease.”

“We can break it.”

“You’re so freaking excited.”

“There are lots of things I can get excited about.” Sam nips his neck, just to give him an idea.

“Sam,” Chuck says. He slides his arms around Sam’s waist and holds him. “I’d go places with you. That means anywhere. In this whole wide world. All I need to be happy is being with you. But this happened so fast. We got here and just stayed. And I don’t want you to go as fast as you came. I don’t want you leave me behind. Not ever.”

“Chuck,” Sam says. “I want to be with you. Anywhere. Any place. Forever. Just like this. So just. Oh, God. Marry me, okay.”

“Did you just propose to me?” Chuck is asking. “Did you. Did you just--” 

They have just enough time to place their order before sliding to the kitchen floor.

Chuck orders General Tso’s chicken, just like he always does. Sam orders beef and broccoli, just like he always does.

“Oh my God,” Chuck says around a mouthful of eggroll. “I want this place to cater our wedding.”

Sam stops with his chopstick halfway to his mouth. There are bits of white rice falling on his new dress shirt, but he doesn't even notice. Can’t even care a little. Not at a time like this. “Uh. Does that mean-”

Chuck passes him his fortune, just like he always does.

**☺ A pleasant surprise is in store for you ☺**  
  


“Oh boy,” Sam says.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
